Cough, colds, cabbages and middle names
by James-Padfoot
Summary: Everyone's got their own brand of (weird) home remedies that they swear by. When Killian Jones becomes sick, Emma Swan takes it upon herself to administer a cure. Hilarity ensues, but so does other things. [Oneshot]


_ Inspired by Jennifer Morrison's (Emma Swan) interview on Ellen regarding home remedy advice from Eion Bailey (Pinocchio)._

* * *

He stares at her incredulously, as though unable to process her words. For her part, Emma is already rummaging through the vegetable compartment, searching for the object of incredulity.

"Emma," Killian says, a cough punctuating his words, "how in the seven hells will this help?"

"Oh right, yeah, it'll take about seven hours to work," she says nonchalantly as her hand grips the round object.

"ARE YOU COMPLETELY MENTAL, SWAN?" he yells, though it comes out more pathetic than intimidating due to his hoarse, strangled, voice that sounds like he's been sitting in a gas chamber.

Losing her patience, she turns and shuts the fridge door with a bang. "IT IS _NOT MY FAULT_ THAT YOU REFUSE TO GO TO THE DOCTOR, HOOK!"

He opens his mouth to say something, but Emma cuts right over him, "And I don't care that you haven't been sick in three hundred years, you are now, SO FOR THE LOVE OF GOD KILLIAN JONES, JUST SHUT UP AND WRAP THIS CABBAGE AROUND YOUR NECK!"

His eyes widen in shock, mouth agape and for a moment Emma thinks it's because of her tirade, but then his gaze snaps to hers and he says, "Figures the first time you actually address me by my given name is _when you're yelling at me_, Emma Swan."

For a moment, she loses the mental capacity to reply, because he'd said it with such adoration and exasperation, and anyway, she's been calling him Killian in her head for a while now. She clears her throat and says, "Yeah well, I didn't think middle-naming 'Captain Hook' would have been effective…"

"Middle-naming?" he enquiries, clearly unfamiliar with the term.

Emma laughs a little as she begins to peel the cabbage leaves on the counter. "It's a… thing we do here. Usually when you're mad at someone, you call them by their full name to show you mean business. It's sort of affectionate, done by parents or close friends, you know, people who know you well enough to actually know your middle name."

He fiddles with his rings as he digests this information, a habit she's learned means that he's thinking, just like how he rubs the base of his neck when he's flustered, or rubs the bottom of his arms when anxious.

"I don't know your middle name," he says quietly, as if this information troubles him.

"That's because I never gave it to you," she says sharply, rolling her eyes. His expression closes off at her words, and she's surprised to see him look as if she's rejected him. Emma doesn't consider this, just blurts it out as fast as she can, words tumbling out as she's eager to erase the semblance of hurt on his face.

"Ruth. It's Ruth. David told me he'd named me after his mother. Emma Ruth Swa—hold on. Emma Ruth Charming?"

Killian raises an eyebrow at her identity crisis and he asks, "Is his last name _really _Charming?"

"Huh. I… I don't know. I guess I really should get to know him better. Both of them."

"Emma Ruth Nolan," Killian tries, as if testing the name on his tongue.

"Are we picking out last names for me, Jones?" she teases, and is suddenly hit with her own words when he tenses ad stares at her with wide eyed surprise. She sees his Adam's apple bob as if trying to decide how to respond to that and Emma makes the mistake of dragging her eyes to his.

FUCK.

The pure want radiating of him is almost tangible, and Emma's traitorous mind unhelpfully supplies, _Emma Ruth Jones has a ring to it, doesn't it?_

FUCK. NO. NO. NO.

She watches him watching her, both unsure suddenly, and Emma can't figure out if she wants him to toe the line or if she wants him to just turn it into another stupid innuendo or …

"Looks like the cabbage is ready," he says.

What?

Emma looks down to her hands, belatedly realizing what she was supposed to be doing. She's a little disappointed but also relieved – she's not ready for the intensity of their thoughts but Emma Jones and _had she really gone there? _They weren't even dating for Christ's sakes!

"Yeah, come here."

He dutifully moves closer, looking at the cabbage leaves warily.

"It's not going to bite," she says with a roll of her eyes.

"Of course not, I suppose it'll just humiliate my throat into feeling better," he says sarcastically, the tone putting her at ease with familiarity.

Emma lets out a small laugh as she unwinds the scarf from her neck, it's an old one that she keeps specifically for this purpose, and winds it loosely around his neck. It's an intimate gesture, she muses, but she doesn't feel uncomfortable, so she focuses on the task. It's only when her finger brushes against a sensitive spot on the column of his neck does she feel a sudden shock. Killian's body goes rigid immediately, and his good hand shoots out of reflex to grip her wrist.

It should be hilarious, him with one hand and one hook, a scarf wrapped around his neck with a few leaves tucked inside it, and her on her toes trying to accommodate for his height, but it isn't, because the air feels positively charged, and she's not even aware that her muttered "Goddamnit, Killian" had been _out loud _until its met with his own whispered "Emma," is said in return.

The sheer reverence in his voice does things to her, and her gaze flickers to his lips against her will, then back to his now darkened gaze and she's not even in control as her body sways dangerously close to him and he pulls her closer, so very close that she can see the individual hairs on his face and her eyes flutter close and –

He suddenly wrenches himself away with great force as he lets out a hacking cough away from her that shatters the moment and slams her back into reality.

Cabbages, Emma, cabbages. Cabbages.

She clears her throat, feeling foolish, and focuses her thoughts. "Come on, let's get this done so you can get better, you whiny pirate."

He grumbles, but stands still as she slaps more of the leafy greens to his neck. It takes her a few minutes of careful maneuvering to cocoon him, and by the end of it he looks so ridiculous she is unable to stop laughing, even as she quickly snaps a picture before he can protest.

"Oh my god," she says breathless with laughter, "I can't believe I have a picture of Captain freaking Hook like this."

She holds up the phone for his inspection and laughs harder when the scowl on his face matches the one on her screen; bulky scarf with bits of green peeking out and a rubbed red nose.

"So this was all a ruse to get me to look ridiculous, love?" he asks, and despite his scowl, she can see the corners of his lips trying to defy gravity in a smile.

"No, no, it really works!" she protests.

He stares at her as if trying to detect a lie, and a warm feeling, one of equal amusement and endearment that he's trying to do _her thing_ rushes through her_._ His expression transforms almost immediately into the familiar innuendo-loving-pirate she knows so well as he steps closer, cabbage and all, and Emma braces herself for it as he says, "Maybe once it's finished working, we can continue that… _conversation_ about names."

Yeah, Emma thinks, she'd bet her bug he's talking about what _followed _that conversation.

"Well pirate, loos like you have an incentive to get better then."

"Speaking of which," she continues, when she victoriously notes how his pupils dilate, "what _is _your middle name?"

He blinks, as if clearing through a haze of thoughts (thoughts Emma's sure she wouldn't mind exploring in the future) and answers, "Noah. Killian Noah Jones at your service, my lady."


End file.
